The Other One
by lirgnayc
Summary: Hydranthea Holmes: The wildcard of all the Holmes. She rather prefers her tech to people, but sometimes it just can't be helped. Set after Recheinbach Falls. It's a sibling fic. I'm sorry. The plot bunnies laid siege upon my mind. Rated T for language. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

Rated T because of Hydranthea's potty mouth. And general potty mouths.

Note: So, there might be some confusion on... just stuff in general. I'll try to explain some of it at the end.

* * *

"Help. I'm surrounded by morons," I drone at the bullies, not bothering to look at them, instead focusing on the turtle shaped cloud. So much for getting away peacefully from idiots that harass me in Boston.

"You slut," he spits out. I snort. I'm insocial you see, "I'm gonna show ya not to mess around with us. That's _our_ bench you're wiping your arse on, so you better get on with it and get off." dumb face number one says. His two cronies laugh and punch each other in the arm like the idiots they are.

"Yeah, tell 'er Casey," dumb face number two said.

I roll my eyes. A universal sign meaning, _you just said something so incredibly stupid that I feel the need to check my brain to see if it registered correctly._

"Like any of you could even form coherent sentences to tell each other how to beat kindergarteners up," I retort.

Seems like that was the wrong thing to say. Well shit. I really didn't want to get into a fight. John would have my ass if I came in with a black eye and the news of dropping out of school. I just wanted to watch the clouds for crying out loud.

Dumb face number three hauls me up by the shirt collar, effectively slumping me off the bench where I was lying down on and lifting me off my feet. I'm rather on the skinny side after all. And a bit short. I look at where my feet are dangling from the asphalt. Lazily, I bring my eyes up to meet his steadily. This one looked like a newbie. His eyes looked a bit wary of what he was doing.

This was a bully initiation. I sigh. Poor chap.

"Piss off guys, I'm just back from uni and it's my time to laze around doing whatever the hell I want. I don't want to be bothered by people with the IQ of a protist."

Well damn. I don't know what I was thinking when I said that. Mycroft always said that my sharp tongue would get me into trouble. Funny after he said that, I showed up at home with a black eye.

I feel someone ruffly grab the back of my collar and hold me up.

"Come on, Jack, 'ave at 'er. She just lied to us, hear that? She said she a uni student. Pffft. Like this little midget is out of primary school." his cronies laughed. I love how Casey didn't mention to this "Jack" that I just said they all have an IQ of a protist.

But saying that I'm not in uni. Saying that I'm _lying_. That is a bitch move. I'm just short. With a flat chest. Shut up. I'm sixteen years old and I drink with an faked ID every weekend. Just kidding. Maybe.

I see Jack's fist come up into a stance. My throat felt a bit strained. This is escalating too fast. Even Mycroft wouldn't get here fast enough. Undoubtedly his CCTV cameras are trained on me, and he was already notified that I was in the country. Little stalker. Stalking his little bastard sister who isn't doing anything. But in all seriousness. I am about to get into serious shit.

"Would you really punch a helpless girl?" I ask as a last ditch attempt, batting my lashes innocently at him, my pride taking a chip.

Jack's stance wavers. I feel a sliver of hope.

"Nah, Jack, don't listen to 'er. We gotta let 'er know 'er place as one of 'dem women."

Jack's fist raised again. There the hope went plummeting to it's death. Okay. This is uncool. This mysoginistic little bully is getting on my nerves. I should really ask Sherlock for lessons on self-defence so I can kick him in the family jewels.

But until then, that is my last card played. Waterworks aren't my thing really.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the worst to come.

It never comes. Only the pressure around my neck loosening suddenly. I am dropped lightly onto my feet.

I hear a grunt of pain that isn't mine, and a stunned silence. So it was only natural that I cracked open an eye to see what the hell was going on.

Casey is lying on the ground, sporting a quickly blooming bruise over his eye, and Jack seemed to be holding his knuckles gingerly.

" _Wat,"_ as my American friends over the ocean would put it.

Well that's a first.

I don't get to cherish my luck however when I hear a chorus of, "Get him!"

Jack looks back at me with panicked eyes. Gee. Well he knows how to get out of a situation. I grab his elbow, minding the possible fractured wrists, and take off with him in tow, back down the bustling street of London. I can hear angry commuters cursing at the big guys barrelling at us, full-on bull mode.

I hail a cab at the intersection, and haul Jack in after me before it had even come to a full stop.

"Baker Street" I bark breathlessly, sprawled across the backseat, "and step on it for an extra."

Safely seated in a cab, heading for the apartment my brother and I live in together with John, I right myself, then slouch into my seat and close my eyes, reflecting on what I just did, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

To my left, I hear Jack shift awkwardly.

"Er." he starts timidly.

I groan out loud.

"Please, I really can't deal with you right now, I have much bigger problems."

 _Like how escape John's wrath._

* * *

 **A/N: So this is gonna continue on for how many chapters I dunno. I'll try to keep updating pretty frequently. But anyway, some clarification I think you'll need:**

 **Hydranthea is sixteen. She does go to college. She is pretty genius like the rest of the Holmes brothers. Tell me if that's too unrealistic.**

 **She's lived with Sherlock since forever, and recently with John when they adopted him as a flatmate. She recently went to America to attend uni for reasons that you'll find out in the next chapter probably (:P).**

 **I think that's it so far. Lot's of questions will probably be answered in the next chapter, like her actual relationship with Mycroft and Sherlock and a possibly a backstory soon. But, leave any questions you want answered in the comments and I'll try my best to answer them.**

 **Constructive criticism, as always, is welcome.**

 **~lirgnayc**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Sherlock.

Note:Helloooo and welcome to the second chapter!

* * *

When the cab pulls up to the all too familiar Speedy's cafe, I have a game plan.

Avoid John.

Genius. Am I right? (Note the sarcasm.)

Really though. I just need to buy time. I dropped out of school in my last year, so I can make myself scarce to John for a year.

Stupid, I know, _why couldn't you have sucked it up and barrelled your way through one more year?_

But see, it wasn't all that stupid and I'll tell you why.

Because kind of psycho that I assume Sherlock wooed sent a nice present to my apartment.

But John can't get mixed up into this. Hell I shouldn't have been mixed into this.

But Sherlock is my brother. So I have a better chance at surviving than John (Logic, yes? It's all in the genes). Hence why I should be hiding my presence in London from him, or he would go ballistic, ranting about how I would become my brother and end up a junkie _and_ I wouldn't be able to give him a legitimate reason for as to why I dropped out in the first place.

Genius, am I right? (Note the absence of sarcasm.)

* * *

If I remember correctly, John should be out of the flat right now and at the clinic. I throw some money at the cabbie, and move to open the door, pausing, having just remembered that there is a person named Jack that I just met sitting in the cab with me. I throw him enough fare money to get back to basically anywhere in London since Baker Street is practically in the center.

"Here's probably more than enough fare to get you where you need to go. Sorry for dragging you along with me." I say over my shoulder, and plan on exiting, just ready to crash on the familiar couch until I have to go into hiding when John comes back.

Except one thing.

The cab door won't open.

Between you and me, I nearly had a panic attack. You can't expect someone like me with no self-defense skills whatsoever to just walk away from Jeff Hope without a deeply pushed back, but ingrained fear of cabbies.

I'm actually really good at controlling my face though, so the moment of panic passed without any commotion.

"Is there something wrong?" Jack asks when I settle back into my seat.

"Yeah, see, the cab door's locked,"

Jack looks back at me in confusion.

"But cab doors don't lock."

"Precisely." I turn my head so that I'm looking into the rearview mirror of the cab, straight into the cabbie's eyes. They're stoic. Unsmiling. I should've known.

I raise my brow to the cabbie, "Well get on with it. I'm pretty sure Mycroft is done playing drama queen."

I get a small incline of the head in return. I'm not saying it's a nod, because a nod implies the person in question agrees with you. Everyone that knows Mycroft knows that he doesn't _play_ drama. He _is_ drama. And he _never_ stops being.

Soon after we pull back into traffic, my phone rings. I'm not able to answer it however because a little someone is nearly exploding with questions. And I like to piss Mycroft off.

"Okay, you've got questions," I say, finding a small thrill in ripping off Sherlock's phrase.

"Yeah, um, let's see, where do I start," he lets out a nervous giggle.

"Too late," I say, "You're time limit is up."

"Wha-What? Who said anything about a time limit?"

"I did. Just now. Silence now please."

And there it is. Silence I mean. I close my eyes in bliss.

It's short-lived however because Jack is merciless.

"So," he says, "Is there going to be another time for asking questions?"

I give a long suffering sigh with my eyes still closed. He seems to get the idea since I don't hear another word from him the entire car ride. Except towards the end.

"Are we there yet?"

I push his head into the taxi seat.

* * *

 **In a suavely decorated safe house 2 and a half hours away in Serbia**

"You've been busy, Sherlock," Mycroft says.

The barber is poking Sherlock with the razor.

"Quite the busy little bee," Mycroft articulates.

"Well, I couldn't exactly dismantle Moriarty's network by following Thea's viewpoint on life. It took me two years of legwork. But I've finally done it." Sherlock says.

"Are you sure you've done it?"

"The Serbian side was the last of the puzzle."

"Oh yes. You got yourself in deep there with Baron Maupertius. I had to wade in myself to make sure you didn't accidently die on me."

Sherlock gave a dry chuckle, "Oh course, what is it you need your dear little brother alive for now? I'm guessing it's an imminent terrorist attack?"

Mycroft pursed his lips. There was silence for a moment except for the scratching of the barber's razor.

"A man gave his life to give us that information." Mycroft says quietly.

"Well he was obviously just showing off." Sherlock said airily.

The door opens to find Anthea with a suit.

"Ah!" Sherlock jumps out of the barber's chair, "Thank you, it's going to feel nice to be back in my own skin." He takes the suit from Anthea.

"Now to get back to London. Oh wait. Is Thea still in America? She really will not try to bypass your security Mycroft really unless her life is in danger."

"Yes, actually. She is back. In fact, we're meeting her first thing in London. She's going to help with our terrorist."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so grateful to whoever's read through my developing writing. I just want to put that out there. Anyway, so still no backstory, sorry. I couldn't seem to find the right place to stuff it in. It will appear though! I can promise you that! I'll try to update frequently (at least once a week), but I can't promise anything. Not going to stick to any definite schedule though. Well, thanks for reading the story if you're still here, and leave a favorite or review if you really want to make me happy! Just kidding, I'm glad you're reading the story at all. XD I love constructive criticism so leave a review on anything you think I should work on. Thanks!**

 **~lirgnayc**


	3. Chapter 3

**Woah. Okay. Sorry. I didn't stick to my schedule. Well. For now enjoy this new chapter. More stuff at the end.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

* * *

The cab stops in front of a restaurant.

"This is where we're meeting Mycroft?" I ask the driver skeptically.

Jack gets out and surveys the place.

"There anything wrong with it?"

"Yeah, he usually goes for more of 'abandoned warehouses."

Jack looks at me strangely.

"Just who is this 'Mycroft' character?"

"No one you need to worry about," I say. I still don't know for sure if he'll stick around.

"Really? And does he usually just kidnap people and bring them to restaurants? No. Right. It's usually abandoned warehouses isn't it?"

Oh dear. Jack's gotten into one of those moods of people where they get pissed when you aren't telling them enough.

"Yep," I say, and I enter the restaurant with Jack trailing behind me. Almost immediately, a hostess comes to escort us to a private room in the back.

I push open the doors myself, expecting Mycroft in there.

"I just got back and now you're–" the words disappear off my tongue because there's the brother that disappeared for two years. Everyone thought he was dead. I didn't.

"Hello Thea," Sherlock says like the asshole he is.

The nerve of him! He just disappears off the face of planet Earth, where none of my surveillance or heavy watching of anything "Sherlock'ish" could find him. I walk up to him and sock him in the jaw.

"I knew it," I say, turning to Mycroft, "You were in on it too weren't you?"

He shrugs, "The real reason he's here is a matter of national importance,"

I look incredulously at him, "You mean that you wouldn't have told me that Sherlock was alive if it wasn't?"

"Well, you knew, didn't you–" Sherlock began.

"How could I know for sure when everyone I know is telling me that my big brother is dead, when I saw his _fucking dead body_ ," I hissed at them.

Jack is shifting uncomfortably behind me, and unfortunately falls prey to Sherlock's subject avoiding tactics.

"Who's your new friend, Thea?" Sherlock asks.

"Perhaps she decided she needed someone a bit closer to her age than John," Mycroft says aloofly, staring at the ceiling.

I throw my hands up into the air in exasperation. Sometimes I wonder why I should listen to my older brothers even when they're being dicks.

"You know just as well as I do, that _Jack_ is here as a result of your knack for kidnapping people. I think it might be an obsession you know?" I meet his eyes defiantly, daring him to retort.

He scoffs, "No matter, we're here to talk about important business. If Jack could kindly leave, I believe that Thea daftly threw a ridiculous amount of money at him in the cab," he looks pointedly at Jack.

I wasn't going to back down though.

"I'm sorry, did I not mention loud enough that," I directed my voice out of the door opening, " _you kidnapped him_."

I turn my head back triumphantly and see his head in his hands.

"This childish–"

"I believe that Jack has every right to stay in this room," I interrupt.

Mycroft and I glare at one another with Sherlock looking on, amused. Don't think I don't catch the smirk on his face though.

"I can leave if–" Jack says.

"And Sherlock! Don't think I've forgotten that I'm still pissed at you," I say, whirling onto him, "Expect repercussions."

"Alright. Good idea because right now we don't have any time to lose," he says, looking at his watch for show, "John should be well into his meal by now. I think I'm going to surprise him."

My eyes widen comically. I look to Mycroft.

He nods solemnly. I shake my head and give him a look unbeknownst to Sherlock who is fixing his cuffs.

 _Did he really just not experience my reaction to finding out he's alive? Do something! Or else Sherlock's gonna be dead for real by the hands of John._

Apparently Mycroft gets the message because he clears his throat.

"If you're forgetting, we're here to discuss the matter of the critical terrorist alert,"

"Yes yes, you already told me about it. I don't have to be here when Thea hears it," he says, waving his hand dismissively and starts walking out of the private room.

I lunge forward and grab his arm to stop him.

"Do you–" I pause, deciding to rephrase my words, "How about I go talk to John first?"

Sherlock stares at me, not comprehending.

"That would kill the definition of 'surprise' would it not?" he says.

"I won't talk about you," I reassure him, "I just want to reconnect and such."

He stares back at me, his eyes narrowing just a bit.

"Lies," he says and starts out the doorway again.

Okay. He got me there. But I wasn't going to let him ruin our friendship with John.

I fly tackle Sherlock, sending us both tumbling to the ground right at the exit. I scramble to my feet, the epitome of grace, grinding Sherlock's head even more into the carpeted floor as a result, and fly out of the doorway with Jack's hand firmly in mine.

"What–Why–What the hell?"

"Come on!" I say when he isn't running.

I grab hold of a waiter with a convenient trolley with a cake on top. I grab the fifty I threw at Jack in the cab from his hoodie pocket and give it to the waiter.

"When a tall man with curly hair comes out of one of the private rooms, you ram this trolley into him, okay? He's trying to get me and my brother for some reason!" I say, looking as terrified as I can muster.

The waiter nods, "Do you need me to call 999?"

But I'm already running, "No, please don't, I'm begging you," I call tearfully over my shoulder, tugging Jack along.

I scan the restaurant for John.

There he is. At a table for two. And… Oh geez. Don't even tell me what that tiny little box of his is that he's cradling like a precious baby.

I scan the restaurant a second time to look for anyone that could be John's date, heading towards the table.

There's no one of the sort. So either his date hasn't arrived yet, or he/she is in the washrooms.

Good. I would hate to barge in if he were about to propose.

"John!" I yell. His head jerks up and catches my eye.

"Thea? What the hell are you doing here–"

"John!" I make my way over to his table, "There's no time to lose. Take your date and go propose to her elsewhere. You can't be here. You don't want to be here in the next–" I look back over at the direction I came from. I hear the loud crashing of a trolley.

"Ten minutes. Go! Outside! I'll meet you there with your date. She's in the bathroom yes?"

"Yeah, okay–Can you tell me what this is about?" he says, gathering his things. John knows well enough to bloody listen to what I say when I'm performing strenuous activities.

"Later. For now," I bring up Jack, "This is Jack. Jack this is John. You two go outside and hail a cab. Go to Claridge's sandwich shop. I'll meet you there with your girlfriend."

They both stare at me for a beat.

"Go!" I say, and they scurry on out.

Now to find John Watson's future wife.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I am so sorry for giving you guys false info about my updating schedule. Now I guess I'm not going to have a schedule \,(._.),/. So I'm just going to be updating pretty frequently (not every week frequently, of course). Anyway. Yay! The Holmes siblings are all together now! This chapter was really fun to write when I wasn't putting it off. Leave a review and I'll give you virtual hugs cupcakes forever! Okay, we all know that isn't true, but I'll be really happy:)**

 **Constructive criticism is amazing. Pls.**

 **~lirgnayc**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

 **Note: It's here! Finally. I know, you're thinking about how spontaneously pleasant my updating is. Of course.**

* * *

I quickly slip into the ladies room, having carefully avoided Sherlock. It wouldn't be below him to come barging in.

"Is there the date to a John Watson in here?" I ask.

There's a woman at the sinks who glances sharply up at me. She waits a couple seconds, scanning my face, measuring me up, then finally says,

"Present. Who's asking?"

"A concerned party. I need you to come with me. We're meeting John at a sandwich shop. You guys do not want to be here. John probably doesn't want his proposal to be interrupted by an old friend either. Oh right. What's your name?"

I watch as her face morphs from suspicious to a very faked surprised, and then into a very real surprised, and then into understanding.

"Mary Morstan. Come on then. We can go out the window," she says, hitching up her skirt, and nimbly climbing out.

I stand there for a bit, not anticipating this part of the plan. To find out that John's girlfriend and soon to be fiancee will climb out of a public bathroom window in a skirt no less. It's a pleasant surprise. Except for the window bit. It's rather high. And I'm rather short. And the adrenaline has begun to fade from my veins, leaving me a bit out of breath, and certainly unable to lift myself onto the ledge of the window. Not that I would be able to lift myself up there under normal circumstances.

I come to a decision and stride over, stand on my tip toes so that my eyes are just level with the outside.

"Go find a cab and go to Claridge's sandwich shop. John will be there, and I'll meet you there."

I see a thumbs up from the outside.

Well. I am certainly am going to be doing some not very legal research on a Mary Morstan.

I quickly close and lock the high window with some difficulty and head towards the door just as it slams open.

Sherlock is standing there in the doorframe and we have a staring contest.

"Where is she?"

"Who?" My voice sounds garbled and obviously lying.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "God, I need to teach you how to lie. You just helped John's date escape, through that window, going by the dust and grime on your hands from opening and closing it."

I look at him innocently. Which is to say, awkwardly shifting my feet with my hands behind my back.

Apparently Sherlock gives up. He throws his arms up into the air, strides quickly over, and takes me in his long, spindly arms. It's a bit awkward, but it's as close to sibling love we're going to get. It's also an extremely rare occurrence that shows that he is very sorry. I fully forgive him.

"I'm sorry I pushed your head into the ground and stepped on it." I mutter into his coat.

"You should be."

"You're an idiot."

"Let's go tell John?"

"Let's go. But don't be an idiot about it." And suddenly I'm reminded of the brash way he was about to go and execute the reunion. I push him away and level him with the most serious stare I have.

"From now on, you have to consult me whenever your might be doing something possibly emotionally derailing to John or anyone that we have remotely established friendship. Promise."

He scoffs, "Don't be dramatic. John will be overjoyed when I tell him."

I sigh. Well John has handled a lot of Sherlock's antics. He can survive the rest without totally breaking off their friendship. If he can survive this one.

"Nevermind. Just let me talk to him first before you come barging in."

"Fine."

"Okay."

'Okay."

"Let's go."

And we exit the ladies restroom together. Only with the Holmes. Only with the Holmes.

When the cab pulls up to Claridge's, Sherlock and I get out, and I pull him aside quickly, away from the large storefront window.

"Now, stick to the plan," I say hurriedly, "When I send you the text, you send John a text saying that you're alive."

Sherlock waves his hand dismissively, just like when we were little and I was trying to explain my computer science to him.

" _Sherlock, just listen, it could come in use."_

" _Yeah, yeah," he would say, waving his hand dismissively, "You do your thing, and I'll do mine."_

Childhood frustration bubbled up inside me just a bit.

"Make sure you do it, okay?"

He's looking at the stream of people flowing past us on the walk. Probably picking out every couple with an affair.

I poke him in the forehead. That catches his attention.

"Okay?"

"I've got it, okay?"

"Good." I turn on my heel and walk into the sandwich shop, a soft jingling announcing my presence.

Heads turn to look in my direction, all but four of them losing interest immediately. My little entourage rushes over to me.

"Thea! Will you finally tell me what's going on?" John says, seemingly growing progressively tired of this night. The poor man was going to propose.

"John." I say solemnly at my feet.

His face gets serious as well.

"What is it? What is it, Thea?"

"What I'm about to tell you, I absolutely swear it's true. You have to promise me not to be angry or upset." I look up to meet his eyes.

 _Eye contact is important. It's all about the eye contact that let's them know you're deadly serious._ I vaguely remember Mycroft telling me at one point.

"Just say it, okay? What is it? Tell me, Thea!" His voice raises a pitch. Mary puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"John, promise me."

"Okay, okay, just tell–"

"Promise," I raise my voice just a bit.

He searches my eyes for a moment.

"Okay. Promise."

I take a deep breath.

"Sherlock Holmes is alive." I enunciate every syllable slowly and carefully. I watch his face closely. As soon as I see the flash of hope, then the long dwelling doubt pass, and as the worry for my well being sets in, I send Sherlock the text with my thumb behind my back.

John's own phone dings.

When his eyes start flicking over the screen, I quickly send Sherlock the second text, and the door jingles open one more time. John looks up in disbelief. Much like as if he were expecting to see a ghost.

There Sherlock is, in all his dramatic glory with his belstaff coat settling down from the breeze.

"Long time no see, John. It seems London called."

I mentally slap him. Damn Mycroft and his drama queen influences.

* * *

 **A/N: Helloooo! I dunno if you think that Sherlock is a bit OOC in this one with the hug and all, but I just want some sort of sibling fluff in this. I really like sibling fluff. Sorry. You'll be seeing more of it :) Anyway, leave a review or a favourite.**

 **Constructive criticism appreciated.**

 **~lirgnayc**


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